To Grow A Single Rose
by Mione Weasley 3
Summary: Ron and Hermione trying to have their first kid. Fluff, but with a lot of sadness, and coping with issues from what occurred during the war. Everything's J.K. Rowlings!
1. Chapter 1

The first time Hermione knows she's pregnant, it lasts three months.

When she finds out, she and Ron are overjoyed. They've waited for this, tried for this, for so long that Hermione cries before she has the chance to tell him and he guesses from her smiling face and tears. For a while, they sit together, his arms around her, and they talk about names and what to do for the room for the baby, and, of course, how to tell the family.

Ginny is fairly far along with her and Harry's first child when Ron and Hermione tell the family, one Sunday night at the traditional Weasley dinner. Everyone runs to congratulate then, clapping Ron on the back and hugging Hermione. But Fleur and Hermione exchange a look: they both know what could happen, but not a word is said.

At two months along, Hermione wakes up, sick to her stomach, and knows its really true. Ron sweeps the hair back from her face and tries his best to be tactful and helpful. As usual, he fails quite miserably, but Hermione knows that he is coming to her aide with good intent, so she holds his hand and lets him comfort her.

Time flies by, and soon, its time for Ginny to have her and Harry's first child. Hermione sees the pain etched across her sister-in-law's, or, best friend's wife, or...perhaps best friend who is a girl would be a better description. And in the pain she also senses the overwhelming joy that Ginny feels as she holds James Sirius in her arms.

"Do you want to hold him?" Ginny asks Hermione, her voice quieter than normal and also slightly broken from the ordeal. "You'll need to practice; you'll have your own soon."

Hermione nods, and takes the baby from her. "He's adorable," she says and she knows her face shows how much she longs for a child of her own.

Ron and Hermione go home, and that night, sleeping in Ron's arms she dreams, not her usual nightmares from the war, but a lovely dream of her and Ron and a baby. A baby whose face she cannot see, nor gender can she tell, but she is happy, she can tell that, so she snuggles in closer to Ron and continues her sleep uninterrupted.

It's later on, two weeks after James's birth that Ron comes to Hermione, later than normal and says, "I've got to go out and do a mission... Auror stuff, you know... I...I'm sorry 'Mione..."

She gets angry at him, and yells, and he just...he just takes it, at the end, when she's said her fill and curled up in a ball on the couch, her eyes full of tears, he says "We both knew it would happen again, I couldn't ask to be taken off the task force. 'Mione, they need Harry and I, we're some of the best trained they've got. I asked Kinsley if there was any way...I did...I'm sorry."

The tears do fall down her face, but she doesn't push him away when he comes close to her and holds her in his arms. He kisses her softly on each cheek, drying away the tears, and finally, he kisses her lips, slowly, and they continue on the dance they know do well now and make love.

He leaves in the morning, early, but she wakes anyway, her morning sickness not over yet, and there is still some anger between them.

"You come home to me," she says as she kisses him goodbye."

"I always will," Ron replies. And he apparates off.

She is alone for the first extended period of time since she found out that she was pregnant, and she finds the solitude disconcerting. Getting back from the Ministry and having no one else at home scares her. She hasn't liked to be alone since the end of the war, at least not for too long a period of time. But she tries to find some food she thinks she can stomach - her morning sickness does not just stay in the morning, whoever named it was an idiot, she thinks to herself - and curls up in the corner of her and Ron's bed, pulling his robe around her for warmth.

She wakes up, confused for a moment before her head spins and her stomach churns and all she can think of is running to the toilet and throwing up. Groaning, she drags herself up when she has finished, and looks at the clock. It's half past six, so she cleans herself up the best she can and heads to the Ministry for another long day at work.

By the next day, the routine has been ingrained in her, and she curls up in the same spot again and reads until she falls asleep.

She wakes up in pain.

Unimaginable pain. Which is quite a feat since she still vividly remembers being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in 1998. She knows without needing to check, what has happened. She's bleeding, and not a spot or two, but more blood than she normally has during a monthly. Bellatrix did this to her, and rage, at the unjustness that even though the battle had been fought and won, she would carry those scars forever.

She doesn't go to work that day, but instead, cleans herself up and cries. She just can't stop crying. There's so many tears, and so much pain.

It's a quarter past twelve when there's a knock on the door, but then the knob turns because someone has put in a key and Hermione doesn't move. She doesn't reach for her wand, because she just... Just can't care enough anymore, doesn't have the energy to care.

A voice calls through the house, familiar, but it isn't Ron's. "Hermione, where are you? Ron asked me to come check in if he wasn't home in a few days." But she makes no noise other than her muted crying, and she stays in the same spot.

The door to the bedroom opens, and George is standing there, his red hair messed up, though the hole in the side of his head, where his ear used to be is looking cleaner than ever. "Hermione, what's wrong?" He asks, but she makes no answer other than tears that keep falling down her face, and then, he understands, and she's not quite sure how, and he isn't either, but somehow the whole atmosphere had changed and he just knew.

Only then, after she knew he knew did words form on her tearstained lips, from her tearstained heart. "The baby, George...what am I going to tell Ron?" And she's lost. Because she doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to handle the knowledge that she has had for the past few hours.

He says nothing, because he, he of all people know what its like to have something that is part of you ripped from them. Instead of giving birth to words that are meaningless, helpless, he walks around the bed, to the side where she is curled up against the wall, and climbs up next to her. Putting his arms around her, he pulls her close, rocking her back and forth, gently. Eventually, her cries subside, and she falls asleep.

George waits there, his arms around her, holding her together the best he can, because he doesn't want her to be alone. He doesn't want het to have to deal with the loss, the agony, alone. He's done that...well...tried to do that, and knows it isn't the way to handle things. He can't let Hermione, his sister in law, who he has known for so long, that he knows has suffered so much, try to deal with this pain alone any longer than she must. And Ron. He knew his brother needed to get back, and soon, but there was no way to contact him, he knew that, so instead, he just sits there, holding her, praying his brother will soon return to his home.

He doesn't have to wait too long. Around six o'clock, the lock turns and Ron enters his home. The feel of the place immediately puts him off, and then George speaks, quietly, but nevertheless, his voice carries, "Ron, you'd better come here. Quick."

Ron comes in, dropping his bag as he walks over to the bed where George sat, holding Hermione in his arms. "No..." Ron's eyes begin to fill with tears and concern.

"She'll be alright, it'll take some time. But... Ron...she...the baby... She didn't really say anything, explain anything. I came in to check on her like you asked and she was crying, curled up alone, I couldn't leave her." He tries to justify himself, that he couldn't do anything, there was nothing for him to do. They stay silent for a while, the clock showing the time passing.

"We knew it could happen." Ron says finally. George looks at him, questioningly. "Bellatrix." He spit the name out like a curseword. "When she tortured Hermione...there was lasting damage, more than just the nightmares. Fleur told us that day, well, told me that day, when we brought her to Shell Cottage. She told Hermione later, she couldn't deal with more trauma. But Fleur said that it would be difficult, really difficult, for Hermione to get pregnant...and that if..." He paused, trying to hold back tears. "And even if she did, it'd be hard for her to carry the baby to full term, near impossible...that there was a great likelihood that she'd lose the baby." Ron said quietly, low, so Hermione didn't wake, and he just stood there, not moving except for his lips as he spoke.

"But you tried anyway?" George asked, unable to help himself.

"You know Hermione, she is stubborn as hell, and she wants kids so bad...and George...I want them too, it'd be beating it, you know, it'd be proof that we actually won, to get to have the family that we desire." There were tears down his face, but he didn't try to mask them, hide them, not from his brother.

Hermione stirred against George, and mumbled something. "She'll remember, when she wakes..." He said to Ron. "You'd better be the one... I did what I could. But she was scared of your reaction...be careful."

"I will," he replies, and he walks around to where his brother is sitting, and gently, they switch places, and it is Ron that is cradling Hermione in his arms when she walks, and in a sickening second, it is his arms that she grabs on to, clings to, as realization overcomes her once more.

"Ron... Ron... I didn't do anything that could hurt the baby... I was careful... I don't understand...I don't understand..." She cries, clinging to him.

"I know, 'Mione, I know," he soothes her, smoothing back her hair, and holding back his own tears. They threaten to fall from his blue eyes, but he doesn't let them. Hermione needs him now, and he will do whatever is necessary to help her, he always has. "We knew it could happen, we knew, remember, we always knew."

"But...it hurts...Ron...it hurts so much...so bad... It doesn't matter that we knew..." Her speech is broken, and full of tears, but Ron understands, and holds her close, whispering to her how much he loves her, how they've gotten through so much, how they can overcome this trial too.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione and Ron heal, but it takes time, a long time before she'll make love to him again, try again. It doesn't take as long for her to get pregnant though, and she tells him, the moment she is suspicious of it. But they aren't happy like they were before. Instead, they're cautious, and they tell no one.

This pregnancy doesn't even last as long as the first. She wakes up, in the middle of the night in pain again, and she knows. She cries out, and Ron wakes at the first sound, like it always does for her nightmares. But this isn't a nightmare, its real, and it takes him a moment, so much longer than her, to realize it. Their sheets are stained with blood, and Ron has to wipe the sleep from his eyes and pick Hermione up, help her clean up, and then curls up with her on the couch as they cry, this time together, for he cannot hide his tears this time.

When morning comes, he sends an owl in to Kinsley, saying he can't go into work, Hermione was too ill to be left alone. It wasn't a lie, he thought recklessly, not knowing what else to say, for they had told no one. Had kept it a secret this time, and this time it would be their pain alone to bear. He knew it had to be that way. He knew she didn't want the pity, it was enough that Ginny didn't know how to handle Hermione last time, when Hermione couldn't hold James for longing for her own child. The pity had been in everyone's eyes, and he didn't want it either. No one could know.

After sending the owl to the Ministry, Ron went to his and Hermione's bedroom. He took out his wand and cleaned up, put everything back together. The blood that had stained the sheets, he thought...that had been theirs...theirs... The thought brought him to tears, and this time, it was him that needed comforting, and Hermione heard him from down the hall, so she gingerly walked down, and saw him, the sheets now bleached white, but too white, they looked magically cleaned, and she knew it, and he knew it. She kneeled down next to him and the sat, pulling his head against her breast.

They cried together that evening.

And the next, and the one after; they could only feel the pain when they were alone, and Ron could not hide from the Auror department forever.

The time passed, slowly, painfully, mournfully, and Ron wondered if he'd ever make love to Hermione again, if he'd ever get to do anything other than listen to her cry herself to sleep. Because nigt after night, that's all that happened.

One month passed before he kissed her again, full on the mouth. He'd had enough of the gloom that filled his household, and he came home one evening to find her sitting distraught in front of her desk, a pile of paperwork in front of her. She hadn't so much as glanced up from her work when he entered the room, but nevertheless, he went over to her and tilted her face up to his and kissed her. Blimey, he thought, he'd missed that.

For a moment, she didn't react, but them, slowly, hesitantly, she kissed him back, let him deepen the kiss, caress her cheeks, her ears, her hair, her neck. He withheld his hands from working their way downward, but he kissed her with all the gentleness he could muster anyway.

"Mourning's done," he whispers when he pulls back. And she's breathless and slightly taken aback, like she used to look when they first dated and kissed. "I love you, Hermione, regardless of if we can have a child or not. I love you." He finishes his statement with another kiss, this one shorter, but harder, and she kisses him back almost right away this time.

"I'm not ready to try again," she tells him, when they break apart.

He understands what she's saying, knows he'll have to be patient even longer, so he starts turns away, angry that she cannot heal as fast as him. It's an illogical argument, of course, and he knows it, but he's too ...too...something to care. But she doesn't let him leave, instead, she grabs his wrist as he is turning, and brings it to her lips, kissing it, then placing his hand on her cheek, she says, "I will be ready... Just not tonight."

He turns back to her and kisses her again, his touch still gentle as before. "Promise?" He asks. He's leaned down so he's level with her, and his voice is husky and deep.

"I promise." She let's him know in response with not only the words, but with another kiss. "I love you." She tells him, when she pulls back, and he murmurs the words back to her, meaning them with all his heart.

More time passes, and sometimes Ron feels like its a year after the war again, and they aren't married, and he's still self-conscious about every move he has to make. But then he remembers all that has happened, that they did win, that they are overcoming all adversity and making the best of the situation following what transpired during those terrible times.

He brings her flowers one night, just for the hell of it, a little over two months after the baby was lost. They're roses, her favorite, red and white - red means true love, Ginny had told him, and white, purity and innocence - it seemed appropriate, though she'd been confused as to why he was asking about flowers, but she answered anyway and let him know. And then he'd gone to the muggle store and bought them for her...and now he was here, standing in the kitchen and Hermione was standing in front of him.

"I brought these for you... I thought you'd like them," he knew he sounded as clueless as he had five years ago, but he knew he was, so why fake anything different.

"Well I'd hope they weren't for anyone else," she replied, but her lips curved upwards in a smile, so he knew she was joking. But she smiled so infrequently lately that he had to, just had to, so he walked forward.

"There's the smile," he said, and he was close to her, so close to her and they both held the roses, between them, and he leaned forward even further, closing the gap. The roses were pushed aside onto the counter in the kitchen, and then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and his hands moved up from holding hers to her face, and then down her shoulders, her arms, her back. And she moved her hands too, drawing him closer, closer, ever closer, until there was no space left between them.

Somehow, a long time later, Hermione woke up, tucked against Ron's warm body, her hair tickling her neck and one of his long-fingered hands splayed on her waist and back. She breathed in the scent of him, and realized how much she had missed being this close... She loved him, she knew that...had known it for a long time, that was nothing new. But what they had forged through these losses was different, a kind of intimate trust that went beyond that of the golden trio, beyond that of even two lovers, they were more than that, though she didn't have the right word for it.

Sighing, she snuggled closer to Ron, and his fingers moved slightly against her bare stomach. She didn't need to tilt her head up to see the face of the redhead that she knew she loved, it was ingrained within her memory, and she knew despite their arguments, that a love like this could not be disputed or destroyed. They'd try again...well...they already had tried again... And she knew, despite the fact that it could take a while, they'd continue trying, because, well, that's just who they were.


	3. Chapter 3

Months past, and they were happy, back to kisses and fights and making love. She wasn't getting pregnant, but they were happy together, content for the first time in over a year. Yes, they were trying, and Hermione counted days and came up with all sorts of other tricks to try, but they both knew the reason lay with the spells that Bellatrix had cast upon Hermione during that night at Malfoy Manor. There was nothing to be done to heal her, nothing to make it any better, so they just kept trying, and had an enjoyable time in the process.

James was older now, Harry and Ginny's son, and Bill and Fleur's children were growing up too. Hermione looked at them, played with them, as did Ron, but Ron could see in her eyes that it wasn't enough go just borrow the nieces and nephews, she still wanted a child...children...of their own.

They tried again that night after Sunday dinner with the Weasley family, made love like they hadn't in years - passionate as though they had just argued and made up, a feat that used to occur quite often. And afterwards they curled together in bed, cuddled against one another and whispered and talked until they fell asleep, heedless of the fact that they had to wake up early the next morning.

More time passes, and Hermione is hopeful as she missed her courses, but, again, they tell no one. The secret must be kept, and they do a good job of it. Though her morning sickness threatens her at more hours than just in the morning - she's still of the mind that that's a stupid name - and she hides her illness at the Ministry the best she can, sometimes working from home. Ron tries not to shirk from duties in the Auror office, but does send an owl in to say he is sick, just so he can spend the day, when Hermione is especially overtaken by the morning sickness, taking care of her.

The nausea slowly wanes, and she can feel the increased circumference of her waist. She smiles because she hasn't gotten this far along yet before, and she knows the further along that she gets the more chance they will have that the baby will make it. She's healthy and smiling, and she almost glows, and she can see the joy reaching across Ron's face as she hits the four month mark according to her estimations.

"When will we tell them?" Hermione asks, one night when they are tucked together in bed, his hand trying its utmost to cover her belly.

"You're going to show...but we should keep it hidden as long as possible," he says, slowly moving his fingers.

"Your mother already suspects. I know from the way she's looking at me, but she'll say nothing, she knows its our news to share," Hermione says to him.

"Sunday at dinner," he says, "what do you think?"

"Yes, and...and we can tell my parents the same day, I think that would work well, don't you?"

"Perfect," he mumbled into her ear, low and soft.

They fell asleep together that way, happy, and when they told their families of the joyful news, they were delighted as well. Somehow, all had made itself right in the world.

Soon after Ron and Hermione had made their announcement, harry and Ginny made one of their own. Ginny was no were near as far along as Hermione, having told the family when she was arount three, months, but the two rejoiced that the two cousins would be so close in age.

It's a short time later that Ron and Hermione lay together, his arms wrapped around her, their hands curved protectively around her widdening middle, and discussed various things. Hermione is still scared, and Ron senses this, instinctively drawing her closer. "Will you be here?" She asks, and he knows what she means. He's been ever more frequently called away on Auror missions, leaving her alone for a few days at a time. It unnerves her, this, for when the time comes...if he isn't there... She shudders against him, shaking, and he draws her closer still, kissing the top of her head.

"I'll be here," he says, trying to reasssure.

"And if you're not?" It's a question that has to be answered. "What if the baby comes early?" They had not found out whether it was a boy or girl, smuggle technology of the like scared Ron, and Hermione wasn't sure what would show up from the curses Bellatrix had sent at her. "What if you're not here? I can't..." She's crying now, she's been doing that a lot, and it freaks Ron out because she usually only cries when they fight, and he's done something wrong, so usually, he can fix it... But there's nothing for him to do here but to smooth back her unruly hair and kiss the top of her head.

"Someone will be here, I promise, if it isn't me, then they'll come get me, shhhh," he tries to calm her down but she's wracked with sobs that shake not only her, but cause a tremor in the bed too, "Mione, you'll be okay, you'll be okay."

He doesn't know what else to say, doesn't understand what's causing this sudden outburst. And then Hermione answers his unspoken question, and he knows: "They say the pain is bad... Ron..." She tries to bury herself closer to him. "I don't know if I can do that...not again...I wake up from the dreams, and my whole body aches in memory of that pain..."

Her words are broken, but Ron thinks he understands. She fears the unimaginable pain that she already had to endure at the hands of Bellatrix, fears that this will be that, over and over again. And what should he say, for he knows nothing of that pain, except that he was there, witnessing it... Listening to her cries. "I'll be here, 'Mione," is the best he has to offer, and arms wrapped around her, time passes, and soon enough she has cried herself back to sleep, but he's awake, and stays awake, feeling the pain himself.

She's eight months along, hand resting on her belly, when he kisses her gently to say goodbye. "I'll be back tomorrow night," he tells her, placing his hand over hers and kissing her again.

"I don't think you should go," she says, she senses something, but doesn't know what it is.

"I have to go, 'Mione, you know that. Look, George will come check on you after he closes up the shop, just rest, alright..." He's worried because he sees the worry in her eyes. She may have forgotten that tearful night, but he doesn't forget it. It presses to his memory, and he kisses her again, ever so soft, "Rest, 'Mione. And, I love you."

"I love you too," she says, her voice so quiet its almost lost. There's tears in her eyes, and Ron longs to wipe them away, kiss them away until she's laughing, not crying, and they make love, but he can't, because he's already late, and because she's too overwhelmed with everything. He kisses her forehead though, once, and then he's gone, apparrated away.

It's early morning, not even six o'clock, and Hermione's still in her nightie and dressing gown, she doesn't feel like getting dressed, but nor does she feel like going back to sleep, so she picks up a book and curls up on the sofa.

Sometime, she's fallen asleep, the book a little over half finished, hands slumped over, the book about to fall. And then, it happens, and she wakes up, and there's water and she knows what has happened. She glances around wildly and sees the clock. It's after five o'clock, somehow, she's slept away the whole day... Well, read and slept away the whole day. But she's uncomfortable, and wet, and then there's pain, and she gasps. George will be here soon, she thinks to herself, but then there's tears because Ron isn't here, angry tears because he promised. He bloody promised. And then there's more pain, and she makes an audible noise this time, had there been anyone else around.

It seems almost impossible, but she makes it through until George comes through the door. She hasn't moved from her spot on the couch, and he calls her name as he comes into the house, "Hermione, where are you?"

She answers, "In the living room," and he rushes in. "Get your mum, will you?" She asks when she can see his face, and his eyes are wide.

"It's too early, isn't it?" He asks, doing nothing but standing there.

"Yes, it's too early," she says, and then there's pain again and it's worse than before. "Please...please just get your mum."

"Doing that..." He walks out of the room.

"Hurry...please...send someone back soon...try...try to get Ron, please..." She calls after him, trying to calm herself down. She's angry with Ron, but she wants him here anyway, since that's the whole reason she's angry in the first place.

Molly comes, and she knows what to do. The baby's early, but she's done this before, experienced it before, and Hermione knows she's in skilled hands. It seems forever though, before anything happens other than pain every increment of time. Molly talks to her, between the pain...but the pains are coming closer together, and she's scared, scared because she remembers the pain of being tortured, and Ron isn't here...he should be here...

And its like her prayers are answered, for right then, at that moment, Ron comes in, soaking wet, partially covered in mud, but there nonetheless. "I'm here, 'Mione, I'm here."

She laughs, because she's between pains, and he looks so funny, dripping mud all over her floor, and she just can't be mad because this...this is all happening.

"Ronald Weasley, you come into the room where your wife is in labor, and you're dripping and making a mess. Do you have any sense of decency?" Molly shouts at her son. But its four in the morning and no one cares anymore, but he walks over to the bed anyway, and droppin wet, he kisses Hermione on the forehead and picks up her hand.

The look of love and adoration is obvious in his eyes, but Hermione only smiles weakly back at him, tired from what she's been through already, knowing there's more to come. "Go clean up," she tells him, rubbing her fingers over his dirty hand. "There's still lots more time."

So Ron leaves the room, after another kiss on her forehead, grabbing clothing from a drawer as he goes, and Hermione has only has one contraction before he comes back, certainly less muddy, and only slightly less wet, wearing only a pair of jeans. Molly looks disaprovingly at him, but Ron only has eyes for Hermione. He walks over to the bed and sits down on its edge, taking her hand, his lean torso bent over her as he smoothes the hair back from her face and caresses her cheek with one hand and her right hand with the other.

The pain comes again, but its not so bad with him next to her, holding her hand and letting her squeeze it. Morning comes, and the sky brightens and people come in to see Hermione: Ginny and Harry come, Ginny's belly making its way into the room first. But the baby hasn't come yet, and morning draws on. Bill comes to see, and he teases his brother into pulling on a shirt, and checks in on Hermione for Fleur. Bill probably knows some of the extent of the problems, Fleur might have told him considering they were at She'll Cottage that night after it happened... But Ron doesn't have time to dwell on that right now, instead, Hermione is clinging onto his hand, it must hurt her like crazy because she's surpressing screams and squeezing his hand so tight he thinks its going to break, and more of the pain comes over her, and more, and more, and Ron doesn't know what to do but let her grip his hand and smooth back her hair, because the baby is coming, early as it may be.

"I love you," he says, so quiet, and in her ear. Her eyes are full of tears at the pain, and he's not sure that she hears him, but soon, very soon, the baby is born.

Hermione is crying, happy tears, and when she first holds the baby in her arms, she, without a moment's hesitation, says, "Rose." Ron looks at her, questionly, glancing up from the perfectly tiny pink infant now in Hermione's arms. "I want to name her Rose. We can choose a middle name later...but I want to name her Rose...for so many reasons..."

And without hesitation, Ron replies, "Yes, we'll name her Rose, I'll call her Rosie. Rose, a perfect name, Rose."


End file.
